


Feint

by whatacartouchebag



Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, fairgameweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatacartouchebag/pseuds/whatacartouchebag
Summary: Day Three Challenge - WeaponsPartners in the field have each other's backs at all times. Should things go south, and the tables turn, it helps to know intimately about their weapon.You need to be ready for everything, you know.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665535
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	Feint

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I might've lied when I said the last one was my favourite piece to write, because this one was SO damn fun to play with.
> 
> Also! If you follow me on tumblr, you might've seen me bitching about Kingfisher's design, and the fact that it's a bastard hybrid of THREE different types of fishing reels. This fic is why. It STILL bothers me and I just know I'm eventually going to have to make a post going into far more detail about that sometime in the future. For now, though, enjoy!

Qrow turned the smaller weapon over in his hands, red eyes tracing along its seams as it sat compacted, folded down entirely. Despite being a smaller construction than most weapons huntsmen tended to use, it still surprised him how small it really was whilst it was tucked down to almost nothing.

Fingertips brushed along the reel, feeling it move easily with a touch. He supposed it really had to, considering how the line was an integral part of it, though he really didn't want to try anything with that just yet.

He gave a loose flick of his wrist, snapping it open into the ready position.

“Just mind the back end if you want to do that,” Clover told him from nearby, gesturing lightly to Kingfisher with his scroll.

Qrow glanced down at the area in question, thumb brushing the button to extend it fully, and watching the jagged harpoon snap into place near his hand.

“Oh right.  _ That _ ,” he replied simply with a smirk. He twirled it in his hand lightly, getting a feeling for how light it was, almost surprised by the flexibility in it. With how thin it was, it certainly couldn't stay as one rigid piece, but it felt like he was almost cracking a whip.

It was worlds away from what he was used to.

“Go on. Take a few practice shots,” Clover told him, tapping at his scroll. At the far end of the arena, a few new pillars rose up, glowing targets appearing at their centre. Qrow almost baulked at that, and he glanced back at the man.

“Wait, you don't expect me to just-” he cut himself off; obviously he  _ was _ expected to just play around with the thing for a while. “It's a... little different to what I'm used to.”

“Granted, but it'll be fun to see you try,” came the indifferent reply.

Red eyes narrowed faintly at that, already bristling lightly as irritation ticked through him at the statement.

“Try?”

The snort fell from him, and he let Kingfisher rest easy across his shoulder. The weight of it made the pose feel vastly different to when it was Harbinger. Clover gave him a nonchalant shrug, wry smile crossing his lips as he met that almost defiant gaze.

“I've still got to try  _ lifting _ yours afterwards, so try is a good word, yes.”

Qrow conceded the point easily, and he twirled the weapon into a readied position, eyes focused on the faraway targets. It was true; he'd already warned Clover just how heavy Harbinger was, and it was worth it to see those green eyes widen in surprise.

They'd almost immediately skirted over his form, as if blatantly wondering where he kept all the muscle mass to do so.

The memory brought the amused smile to his lips, and he settled fingers over the faint rise of the buttons on the grip. He recalled what Clover had told him in regards to casting control, but it still didn't help that he had  _ no measure _ for how to do this. Maybe it worked just like Harbinger's transformation? It was really the only thing he had to go on.

He gave a few more experimental flicks, feeling the weight of the barbed hook at the end, and the soft huff left him. Well, no way to really know until he tried.

He brought it easily back over a shoulder, nothing too hard or fast, and flicked it forward, bowing it with the motion and releasing it it a sharp movement, sending the barb zipping off towards it's quarry. The reel hissed at the action, and red eyes watched it sail towards a target.

Falling entirely short of it.

He hissed out a sigh, retracting the line with a flick as Clover gave a low whistle.

“Not bad for a first try,” he told him, impressed. “Your aim was nearly perfect; you got a feel for it's weight pretty quick.”

“Yeah, all I gotta do is think about using one tenth of my normal strength,” came the easy retort, earning him a soft laugh in the process.

“You're not wrong about that...” Clover murmured in response. “Though... don't rely so much on how far back you reach when you cast; it's flexible enough that your main casting power will come from the rod itself. Like how you already use Harbinger's weight as the main driving force behind it's strikes.

“The barb is the heaviest point, meaning it's your greatest store of kinetic energy. So... you don't need too heavy of a cast; just a fast one,” he finished.

Qrow tilted his head a little, letting the words settle over him. He had a very fancy way of saying 'throw faster,' and he resisted the urge to snort softly at him. Though, it made sense on paper, so it was just a matter of practising a little more; getting a better feel for it's weight and release point. He glanced up at Kingfisher as he gave a few more flicks of the rod, keeping the line braked and watching how it bowed with each cast, subtly adjusting how far he drew back.

The operative smiled to himself as he watched him go through the very methodical session. Qrow was nothing if not a quick learner, and he could appreciate the process the huntsman was going through; watching each and every little tell as he was either satisfied or disgruntled when something felt right or otherwise.

Red eyes remained focused on each part of the weapon, taking in each little change of angle, and with a final practise flick, fingers brushed gently over the hidden paddle, sending the barbed hook whizzing towards the target once more.

With a satisfying thunk, it struck true, embedding firmly on the edge of the target. Not outside of it entirely, but it was enough for the system to ring out a point in his favour.

A bright, if not surprised, smile crossed his expression, and after taking a moment to admire his handiwork, he turned to Clover, spreading a hand in waiting recognition. Clover could only laugh softly at him, hands falling to his hips.

“Well I'll be damned...” he breathed. “Think it works better in your hands than mine.”

Qrow gave a soft snort at that. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. One lucky cast isn't worthy of switching it up too regularly on the field.”

“No, but it  _ is _ good practice, if something happens,” the brunet reminded him simply. The huntsman gave the line a brief flick, dislodging the hook and retrieving it smartly back into the reel.

“Think I'd still feel more comfortable with my own, no offence. It's fun to practice with, but I prefer feeling the weight of my weapon.”

Clover offered him a simple shrug. “That's fair. I don't even I could pull off some of the moves you can with Harbinger. Whatever you do with it, you make it look all too easy for something that weighs as much as it does.” Qrow gave Kingfisher a brief twirl, retracting it fully and clipping it onto his own belt. Maybe he  _ would _ keep practising with it later on...

“Well, for  _ me _ it is,” he taunted easily. Fingers reached behind him, unholstering said weapon and bringing it up to glance across its surface. Burnished metal stared back at him, the design etched into it hardly showing any wear considering the rough life it had gone through alongside him.

It almost felt strange. Normally he would have hesitated, baulked entirely at the suggestion of such a training exercise. Hell, he still didn't like it when he had to hand it off to someone else for repairs. Not to mention the way he'd bristled completely when he'd been without it for nearly an entire evening when they first arrived in Atlas.

He just... didn't like being apart from it.

Clover though... He'd just come right out and asked about this. And his mind had immediately rationalised it, rather than fighting it, like it normally would. They'd been working together for so long now, so it made sense to train like this.

It had just... made sense, his mind whispered.

Fingers brushed across the design, and he shook himself mentally from where he stood, glancing up at the man in question.

“Alright, you're up,” he told him, and with a casual toss, sent the compact blade sailing towards the operative. The brunet almost fumbled it in his surprise, catching the thing with both hands and taking a couple of steps back.

It was  _ heavy _ . Heavier than he expected, and it almost felt like he was lifting a truck tire with the weight in it. He  _ really  _ had to wonder where Qrow stored the muscle mass needed to wield it. Or maybe it was why he was as scrawny as he was, he realised with a soft snort.

Still didn't explain how little he ate though.

He held Harbinger with both hands, one about the handle, and the other cradling it under that impressive array of gears. Green eyes ran across the clockwork mechanism at its heart, idly wondering just how many hours upon  _ hours _ Qrow had spent on the design of not only the weapon itself, but giving it the ability to work as one streamlined unit like this.

Just how much research and how many sleepless nights had gone into pouring over schematics and scratching out ideas and perfecting others? Compared with the way his own weapon worked, it was utterly dwarfed by the undertaking that must've been designing all the interlocking and transforming systems of Harbinger.

He was suddenly a lot less impressed with its raw weight and more with the intricate construction of it, and he already wanted to ask him a ridiculous amount of questions about it.

“Not as compact as yours, but you'll wanna keep your fingers out of the mechanism once you-”

Clover had drawn his fingers about the handle, releasing the blade to its full length with the hidden paddle.

“Yeah, that,” he finished with a soft laugh, reaching up to rub the side of his neck idly.

The brunet's centre of balance was suddenly off-kilter, as the weight was now further away from him, and he had to rework his footing lest it pull him to one side. He turned it around in front of him, holding it vertical and admiring the sleek craftsmanship that had gone into each and every inch of the weapon.

“Did you forge all the parts yourself?” he asked unthinkingly.

Red eyes blinked back at him, a little thrown as he stared up at it. “Ah... yeah. Had to design and build it from the ground up. Not many kids used scythes, and even less huntsmen. So parts weren't really... available,” came the soft explanation.

Clover drew the broadsword flat in front of him, cradling a hand under the wide blade as green eyes skirted over every seam and brush of burnished metal; he couldn't resist tracing the design with his fingers, feeling every dip and faint scuff in the surface. He ran his hand along the blunt edge of the blade, knowing it was the housing for that secondary blade within. The scythe itself.

He retraced his path, almost wanting to dip fingertips into the mechanism at its heart but resisting. He didn't want to potentially damage the delicate cogs and interlocking gears.

Red leather, stained deep and dark felt almost soft under his fingers, and he turned it over before him, tracing the skilful weaving with his eyes. Just what  _ hadn't _ Qrow needed to learn to construct it? He wasn't kidding when he said he'd needed to build it from the ground up.

Forging, clockwork construction, standalone firearm design, a ridiculous level of engineering to get everything to  _ work _ together, leatherwork...

Not to mention the level of utter control he needed to  _ wield  _ it.

“It's gorgeous...” he breathed absently.

He almost missed the way Qrow's shoulders gave a minute bunch at that. He did, however, see the way faint colour brushed about his collar, and he rubbed lightly at the back of his neck.

“Ah... thanks. Fond of it myself,” he added with a soft laugh. Clover couldn't help but join him in the simple amusement, and he held the broadsword aloft for a moment, resting it easily across his shoulders.

“Well? Does it suit me?” he asked with a smirk.

Qrow could only laugh at him properly, and he shook his head at him. “It looks  _ way _ too big for you.”

“It feels it,” Clover conceded, hefting it down again, fingers settling about it proper and resting against the activator. Qrow caught the position and held up his hand.

“Get your footing ready first,” he warned him gently. “Once that weight shifts, it'll throw you again. And watch the back end. Ah, don't... point it at yourself,” he added with a knowing smile. The operative took his words to heart, and shifted lightly. With the faintest brush to the paddle, the blade snapped into a curve, and the handle extended sharply out in both directions.

Green eyes stared down at the now transformed weapon, and he was a little surprised. For having seen it change through its many variations already, he never really put stock in the fact that the handle for the broadsword would remain the central section for the scythe's long handle.

It made sense, as it meant Qrow wouldn't have to change his hold on it too drastically once it came out, and its weight was balanced more evenly too. He was right about the shifting of that centre of gravity, though, and he gave it a practise twirl in his hand, feeling the weight of it drag down his arm.

How the  _ hell _ did the huntsman spin it with such flippant ease? And so  _ fast? _

He could only chalk it up to a lifetime of practise, much the same as with him and Kingfisher. The casual twirl felt  _ worlds _ apart from his own weapon, and he let the end of the handle rest on the ground, green eyes following the wickedly curved blade.

Qrow nodded towards it. “Give it another forward click,” he told him, folding his arms over his chest.

Clover glanced down and reached for the little activator once more. With another faint click, the scythe blade snapped even further back, and it looked more like a vicious spear than its previous form; blade standing almost straight up from the handle.

The brunet's brow furrowed as he took in this new form, and the penny drop hit him after a heartbeat of time. “Huh... crowd control,” he said simply.

“Bingo,” Qrow replied with a smirk. “Get yourself stuck in the middle of a bunch of Grimm, and while the scythe is good, that's better; keeps them out of your face long enough to take a few of 'em down,” he explained. “Once you're free, you can choose what you want to finish it with.”

“But you can't use the shotgun like this.”

The instant statement had him blinking back at the man, and he had to appreciate the immediate insight Clover was already showing in regards to it's functionality. He shook his head lightly, smile easy on his expression.

“Nope. It's the one design point I never got around to finishing. But I also realised that if I was using a shotgun, I didn't want to have to carry the entire weight of the thing at the same time. So, kept it's use to compact form only,” he told him. “Ruby managed to work around hers perfectly, but only because she decided on a sniper rifle instead.”

“She's using the blade as a complete counter-balance,” Clover finished, the realisation settling over him. “It compliments the function perfectly when it's fully extended.”

Qrow's smile couldn't help but broaden, and he shook his head lightly.

“You know, for someone that's never laid their hands on one before, you sure know your stuff about scythe-based weapons,” Qrow told him, clearly impressed.

Clover's eyes followed the weapon as he went through the motions of retracting it, step by step, until the broadsword was back in his hands.

“I observe a lot,” he told him, wandering towards the huntsman as he gave Harbinger an easy twirl, extending the handle towards him. “And I make a lot of mental notes. Need to make sure I know what my teammates are capable of, you know,” he added with a wink.

Qrow snorted softly at that. “No wonder I catch you staring at me a lot,” he told him, letting fingers curl about the handle of his weapon once more.

“Oh, here I thought I was being subtle,” he replied easily. The huntsman could only sigh as he felt the weight of Harbinger in his hand once more, still surprising Clover with how easily and idly it was lifted from his grip. With a practised flick, it compacted fully once more, sliding back into place at the small of Qrow's back.

That comforting weight once more.

“If that's subtle, I'd hate to see you being blatant.”

Clover could only give a soft hum of amusement at that, and reached out for Kingfisher. He pulled the huntsman sharply forward with how it still sat connected to his belt, and Qrow couldn't help the almost ungainly fall forward as his centre of balance was thrown. Hands darted up to Clover's chest in reaction, landing heavily against him, and he could only frown deeply at him.

“Very funny,” he huffed.

“I thought I was being blatant.”

The operative let his hand slip about Qrow's waist, resting on the blunt edge of Harbinger, allowing his other to do the same. He enjoyed the way the burnished metal felt under his fingertips, and thumbs brushed along the warm edge lightly.

He leant forward slightly, brushing his nose to Qrow's gently. “So... what now?”

The huntsman could only smile back at him, returning the nuzzle as fingers settled against the lapels of his uniform.

“Well... I was thinking... you could get your hands off my sword-” the snort of laughter tore from Clover, and he had to turn away from him “-and we could keep sparring.”

The brunet couldn't help the bright laughter that continued to roll from him, though he did comply with the huntsman's wishes. One hand drew back lightly, brushing flat and warm up his spine underneath a jacket, and wringing the faint draw of breath from him.

Fingers curled at his chest, and Qrow narrowed his eyes affectionately at him. “No distractions now...” he breathed. “We're supposed to be practising here...”

“Am I a distraction?” came the soft murmur against lips.

“Mm... the worst...”

Clover smiled against those lips, breath warm and tickling against skin.

“Good to know...”

There was a faint movement at the small of his back, and Qrow's brow barely had time to furrow, knowing the faint press wasn't from fingers at all. Red eyes had scarcely widened in realisation before Clover had all but shoved him backwards, ripping Harbinger from its place and extending the broadsword once more.

He blinked at him in stupefied betrayal and his jaw clenched tightly, already reaching for Kingfisher and snapping it open once more, fingers curling harsh around it.

“That's dirty pool!” he snarled, weapon at the ready.

Clover stalked almost arrogantly away from him, grinning easily as he drew the sword up, arms spread wide.

“That's how sparring sessions go,” he told him simply, offering a vaguely apologetic shrug. “Need to be ready for everything, you know.”

Qrow all but growled at him. “I take back  _ every  _ nice thing I just said to you.”

The statement seemed to throw Clover entirely, and he dropped his arms as he stood up casually once more, brows furrowed in a very clear pout.

“Well  _ that's _ just me-” In a shot, he had to whip Harbinger back up in defence, as Qrow had burst forward from his place, crashing Kingfisher against the flat of the blade. The two ground against one another, and Qrow could only grin back at him.

“ _ Now _ who's distracting?”

Clover could only laugh at him, and he did the utterly unthinkable. He let all force drop out of his stance, whipping Harbinger out from between them, and Qrow fell forward against him, clearly not anticipating it. A gloved hand darted up as Kingfisher was pinned between them, curling into dark locks and holding him firm as lips crashed against his own.

There was a sound of surprised protest against him and it took only a handful of time before he began to feel all tension slipping from the huntsman's form; muscles relaxing from their tight battle stance.

A hand reached up to the curve of his neck, returning the firm hold as all thoughts of sparring against one another were suddenly forgotten once more. At least, until there was the awkward press of metal into Qrow's chest, and he drew back faintly, breath still against lips.

“Wait. Wait up,” he said, and he pulled back a little further to untangle Kingfisher from between them, flicking it lightly to snap it back down to size. He reached for it's usual resting point on Clover's belt, securing it there once more. The operative gave a warm smile as he compacted Harbinger back down once more, returning the gentle favour, and sliding it back into place at the small of Qrow's back.

Fingers brushed along Clover's chest again, smoothing across fabric to find the hollow of his throat.

“There...” he breathed against his lips once more. “Much better...”

Clover could only smile against him, fingers threading back into dark hair, enjoying the silken feel.

“I thought we were sparring...” he murmured, not really complaining about the sudden turn of events.

The huntsman smirked, red eyes skirting across lips as fingertips traced the same path.

“We still are.”


End file.
